


He Want That Cake

by oneforyourfire



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Birthday Sex, M/M, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-09
Updated: 2016-08-09
Packaged: 2018-08-07 16:41:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7722133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oneforyourfire/pseuds/oneforyourfire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Joonmyun's indulgent and burning and enthusiastic and dripping with affection because Kyungsoo's the birthday boy, deserves it, deserves the whole world for being Joonmyun's whole world.</p>
            </blockquote>





	He Want That Cake

With a foil birthday hat still firmly affixed to his head and a cheesy grin plastered on his face, Joonmyun is hardly at his sexiest like this, hardly at his most commanding—objectively speaking, at least. But Kyungsoo’s got five years of built up love, love-informed attraction and lust, and Joonmyun is _his_ , falling into character soon enough, too, biting his lower lip before letting it pop free, licking it slow and luxurious.

The lazy smirk, it replaces his crinkle-eyed smile, a welcome change. And he’s still wearing that awfully ugly rainbow birthday hat, but it's dismissed easily enough.

Because Joonmyun, he’s all furrowed brows and lidded eyes of authority, as he presses his palm flat to Kyungsoo’s chest with a drawled “birthday boy,” urging him back into the mattress. And Kyungsoo melts back into their pale blue sheets, lets himself be pressed. Joonmyun straddles him as he crawls up his body, another lazy, lazy "birthday boy" popping from his lips as noses up Kyungsoo's throat.

In the caressing shadows cast by the black cherry candles Joonmyun had lit, Joonmyun’s handsome and earnest, his kisses slow and deep, fingers slow and careful, moving with a heavy intent.

"I want to taste you," he intones between arousal-heavy breaths, languid drags of his lips and tongue, pausing for Kyungsoo's heavy shudder. "Want to—want to make you feel so good."

His palm skates over the front of Kyungsoo's slacks as his lazy kisses bloom into lazier bites, hot breath ghosting over Kyungsoo's jawline, his throat. And Kyungsoo has honestly mostly forgotten about the hat, completely distracted even as the elastic band drags over his neck.

"It's your birthday," Joonmyun continues against his sternum, lips dragging over the collar of his shirt. "But fuck, you're my treat.So—so beautiful." His voice sounds almost disbelieving.

Joonmyun had called him beautiful the first time they’d had sex. Said it all breathy and disbelieving and cheesy—in the aftermath cheesy, in the moment, it had been somehow disarming, hot. And now, even though his touches are familiar, his lips rerouting ancient trails along Kyungsoo's body, there's still that burning reverence in his eyes if Kyungsoo allows his eyes to open enough to see it, an awed sort of want in his touch as Joonmyun strips him bare, his hands, lips, praises hot and wanting on Kyungsoo's skin.

Joonmyun's indulgent and burning and enthusiastic and dripping with affection because Kyungsoo's the birthday boy, deserves it, deserves the whole world for being Joonmyun's whole world.

Joonmyun's fingers are nimble, efficient, his mouth hot and wet and beautiful, and Kyungsoo finds himself moaning, fingers scraping over that ugly birthday hat before he tugs it completely off, lets his hands tangle in Joonmyun's gelled hair.

"Want to taste every inch of you," Joonmyun rasps against Kyungsoo's nipple, sparing a slow bite, a slower hum, a smile when Kyungsoo writhes upwards into the caress. "Want to eat you out."

And _oh_ , birthday rimming, it's Kyungsoo's favorite tradition, better than the flowers that Joonmyun always insists on delivering to his work, better than the bite-his-lip-they're-so-earnestly-cheesy-birthday messages that Joonmyun sends every hour to his favorite birthday boy, better even than the leftover seaweed soup, chocolate cake, and Italian takeout currently chilling in the fridge, the leftovers Kyungsoo will take to work tomorrow. Joonmyun's tongue in his ass, it's Kyungsoo's favorite thing.

Joonmyun drops a stinging nip to Kyungsoo's stomach, and Kyungsoo is dragged back to the present, tugging absent but hard. He's rewarded with another bite, a succulent kiss, Joonmyun's tongue dipping into Kyungsoo's bellybutton, swirling in a way that has heat dancing up Kyungsoo's veins, another moan—louder, breathier—falling from his parted lips.

Head lolling back against the pillow, he doesn't mind the smile—knowing and entirely too self-satisfied—that Joonmyun drops to his hipbone, too busy arching, letting his clothed cock dragging over the contours of Joonmyun's chest, his fingers meanwhile anchoring on Joonmyun's hair.

There's another smile, a soft moan, as Joonmyun tugs his pants, just a little too rough, fingers trembling just slightly with the action, Kyungsoo in the meantime parting his legs to give him more room.

And Joonmyun spreads Kyungsoo's legs further, palms skating up Kyungsoo’s thighs, fingers digging there in slow appreciation, molding there as Kyungsoo tips back with a light moan, the weakest breathiest laugh escaping his lips as Joonmyun's hands tighten at the sound. There's the briefest scrape of teeth, too, Joonmyun's helpless microexpressions of unsteady control, heavy want.

And _oh_ , this promises to be heavy, hot, Joonmyun intent on reducing Kyungsoo to trembling limbs, hitching sobs, breathless moans. Joonmyun, for Kyungsoo's birthday, he wants him overwhelmed, wants him broken and ruined and begging.

For Kyungsoo's sake, to Kyungsoo's liking, he'd promised. He promises every year. It’s always about what Kyungsoo wants, what will have Kyungsoo coming hardest.

And yes, last year, Kyungsoo had fallen pliant and soft for him, relishing in the unyielding firmness, the hot authority, the searing way Joonmyun had of taking him apart. He'd let Joonmyun have control, the way he only ever lets Joonmyun have control.

But no, this isn't how he wants it, Kyungsoo decides, watching the lazy movement of Joonmyun jaw as he sucks higher and higher on the delicate skin of Kyungsoo's inner thigh, nosing along the fine hair there on every exhale, dragging it out, urging Kyungsoo to press back for more, determined on leaving Kyungsoo writhing and wrecked.

And Joonmyun does, has every time he's done this. Fucked him with his tongue until Kyungsoo was panting and maybe almost sobbing with pleasure. But even then, oh even then—

Kyungsoo's fingers shift, thumb clumsy as it presses into the swollen plushness of Joonmyun's bottom lip, fingers molding into the nape of Joonmyun's neck. Cradling, but still a firm, telling sort of caress.

A silent plea, silent command, and Joonmyun stops his ascent to Kyungsoo's cock, blinking heavily, lips parting.

The muscles in his shoulders shift, rolling upwards as he rises into Kyungsoo's touch, and Kyungsoo's hand tightens just briefly. Joonmyun maybe gasps, his throat bobbing with an aborted sound. Confusion briefly registers in his eyes, and he blinks past it, watching Kyungsoo through lidded eyes as Kyungsoo repeats the caress, palm unforgiving as it guides the tilt of Joonmyun’s head.

_Me. Let me_.

Joonmyun presses back just the slightest, then, an almost defiant tilt in his jaw, a hardness in his eyes, brief,a reminder. Because this isn't natural for him, isn't how he usually likes it, but he trusts Kyungsoo, goes willingly where Kyungsoo leads him. And all too soon, in spite of the brief protest, the hardness Kyungsoo can practically feel thrumming beneath the surface, tempered steel beneath his heartbreakingly soft skin, Joonmyun relents, melting into it for his sake. He lets his neck fall limp in Kyungsoo's grasp, lips parting as he lets himself be guided.

It's unnerving, Joonmyun had admitted once in the afterglow, flushed and breathless and strained. It's counterintutive, confusing, vaguely terrifying even. And it makes it hotter for Kyungsoo, in a way, knowing that it's only ever been like this with Kyungsoo. He's only ever been like this for him.

Now it’s Kyungsoo’s turn to press his palm flat to Joonmyun’s chest, Kyungsoo’s turn to urge him on the mattress, Kyungsoo’s turn to straddle, Joonmyun’s turn to squirm.

“Wanna sit on my face?” Joonmyun tries, chest hitching sharply as Kyungsoo drags hard against Joonmyun’s tense, darkwashed denimed thigh. “Birthday boy.”

“Yes,” Kyungsoo agrees, arching back and lifting his ass just enough for a clumsy-fingered Joonmyun to tug off his boxers, then pull off his own shirt, hasty, rough, another tell.

And Joonmyun forgets himself, then, wraps his hands around Kyungsoo's bare waist to drag him upwards towards Joonmyun's heaving chest. Guiding his movements, wresting briefly for control, wanting, wanting to fuck Kyungsoo with his tongue, fuck him into a stupor.

"Me," Kyungsoo voices this time, speaking past the shudder that races up his spine at the brief sting of Joonmyun's fingernails on the small of his back. "Let me."

Joonmyun blinks up at him, all flushed cheeks and disheveled hair and swollen lips and hot want. "Birthday boy," he breathes, fingers fanning out, a soothing, implicit sort of permission in the way he melts back into their mountain of pillows. "Whatever you want," he agrees, the words strained, soft, sincere. "Want to make you feel good."

And what Kyungsoo wants, what will make Kyungsoo feel _best_ , it's Joonmyun focused on him, Joonmyun melting back as Kyungsoo uses him up, takes everything he wants, descending in breathless increments as Joonmyun hums for him to continue, take what he wants, he's the birthday boy, after all.

Kyungsoo chokes on a moan as he allows himself to rest more fully, a series of soft moans and tiny tremors as he rocks his hips onto Joonmyun's warm, wet, willing mouth, his skin jumping at the first lazy, languid caress of Joonmyun's tongue along his rim.

Joonmyun starts exquisitely slow, licks Kyungsoo open with broad, broad strokes, wet, wet groans, his movements fluid and enthusiastic and hot, luxurious and delicate and thorough. Too, too much like it was just last year, but Kyungsoo's thighs still tremble with every gaze of Joonmyun's tongue, heat still racing through his veins, his limbs loose, neck limp as he takes Joonmyun's every lazy caress, relishes every languid lick.

Kyungsoo almost forgets himself, too, fisting their decorative wood headboard, moaning softly as he drinks in the lazy drags of Joonmyun's impossibly wet tongue, the soft hitch of his lazy hums. But Joonmyun eases in a finger beside his mouth, and Kyungsoo remembers himself, remembers that he's not quite as in control as he'd like to be.

This isn't what he'd been promised.

And Me, Let Me, Kyungsoo reminds him, one hand falling limply, tugging weakly on Joonmyun's hair. He gets his hips twisted enough to grind against Joonmyun's mouth in tight, fast circles that have his own mouth falling open with a ruined whimper, have his fingers scrambling, tugging helplessly.

And Joonmyun moans at that, the delicious vibration provoking a heavy, helpless full-body shudder.

He swivels again, grinds again, drops again, Joonmyun taking every movement in stride, eating him out with the most delicious enthusiasm, the most distressing pliance.

_Joonmyun's only like this for me_ , Kyungsoo thinks deliriously, arm trembling as he braces himself on the headboard, his jaw slack with pleasure. _Only I can have Joonmyun like this. Only for me_.

Kyungsoo's fingers stumble in their shift to his own cock, his strokes tight, hard, just slightly clumsy as he rides Joonmyun's face with breathless, whimpery, needy writhes.

And Joonmyun, even like this, pliant for his sake, just exactly what Kyungsoo requested, there's a bite to him still, his fingers bruising, scraping, grounding himself as he swirls his tongue faster harder. His fingers spread, dragging red, hot around the swell of Kyungsoo's ass, as he probes his tongue deeper. He’s circling his thumb too, scraping in a teasing, maddening caress even as he lets Kyungsoo use his mouth, use his face, use him to make himself feel good.

It's so, so, so good.

Kyungsoo moans louder than he intends to as Joonmyun eases in another finger alongside his tongue. Another soon after, his hips jumping in their desperate want for more. And Joonmyun moans, too, burying it deep inside him, muffled but louder the harder Kyungsoo grinds, the sound ruined and hot and wanting.

The hand not pushing inside of Kyungsoo, it's still wrapped around Kyungsoo's waist, his fingers astonishingly tight, thumb disconcertingly tender as he teases over the skin of his navel. It seems Joonmyun's one stronghold of control as Kyungsoo rocks down on his tongue, faster, sloppier, lost in it.

Kyungsoo's knees part recklessly, chasing the friction, the rippling vibration, limbs trembling as he strokes himself sloppy and hard, the pleasure overwhelming now, roaring through his veins.

Joonmyun's hand drops, tangles in the sheets, tugging, tugging hard enough to tug one corner free before relenting.

And distracted as he is, drunk on pleasure, Kyungsoo can feel Joonmyun fumbling, can hear it, too, the whisper of fabric, Joonmyun’s zipper and boxers, Kyungsoo realizing. Joonmyun scrambling to touch himself, probably aching from how hard he is. The fingers of his other hand are still working themselves inside him, and his tongue is still working inside of him. And his movements become hotter, just slightly rougher, the faintest scrape of teeth, the briefest sting of blunt nails, the helpless tremble of a moan, dazed with pleasure.

"So good," Kyungsoo says mindless, absent, sincere, the words falling freely from his lips as pleasure fogs his mind. "Hyung," he drawls out, thrumming, trembling with it, his fingers shaking as he strokes himself even faster, even harder. "Hyung, I'm gonna come."

And Joonmyun moans again, maybe even whimpers, blatant approval, ruined approval.

He wants it. He wants it.

So Kyungsoo does, hard, loud, trembling with the force of his orgasm, Joonmyun's arms at his waist the only thing keeping him upright as he gasps and pants through it.

He collapses none-too-gracefully afterwards, headless and laughing, tangling in the ruined fitted sheet, and Joonmyun maneuvers him a little clumsily, laughing breathlessly, too as Kyungsoo smiles at him, entirely fond and entirely grateful.

Joonmyun's lips are slick with saliva, puffy and ruined, and _fuck_ , Kyungsoo loves him, loves everything about him, has to drag him forward to kiss him firm, hard, deep, heedless of Joonmyun's breathy protest, swallowing it quickly, swallowing Joonmyun's moans, too, as he works Joonmyun's pants and boxers further down—enough, enough to jerk him off.

My present, he thinks, twisting his wrist tighter, faster. Mine, mine, mine.

**Author's Note:**

> crossposted from my lj comm  
> originally published on dks' birthday


End file.
